I watched you
by winterwoods
Summary: Infatuations are never good, especially not for a Malfoy. Onesided DMGW


**Author's notes**: well, another one shot. Why not?  
Tell me what you think, constructive criticism is always welcome!

* * *

I watched you. I didn't at first, when I first saw you. You were with that cursed Boy Who Lived and your entire family, I couldn't watch you then.  
I watched you the year after that. I watched your silly infatuation with the even sillier boy. I watched how you didn't mean anything other to him than his best friend's kid sister. 

I watched you. I didn't at first, when I first saw you. You were with that cursed Boy Who Lived and your entire family, I couldn't watch you then.I watched you the year after that. I watched your silly infatuation with the even sillier boy. I watched how you didn't mean anything other to him than his best friend's kid sister.

Then I watched you change. I saw you dating Michael Corner, and Dean Thomas, and thought you had finally healed from your first crush. I even watched you during that last fateful year. How I hoped you would notice my horrid position... It was such a cliché actually; I was the death eater's son who didn't want to be a death eater himself, but had no other choice. And according to the cliché I had to break free from my family and run to Potter and kiss his robes while begging for forgiveness and a place in his precious Order.

_I would've become the next Snape. _

I couldn't do that, I wasn't in Gryffindor for a reason; I never had much courage. Even my Slytherin traits abandoned me in this position actually. I couldn't change the situation so I would get the benefits. The Dark Lord had already done that, and when He got the benefits... Well, everybody else got the disadvantages.

I still watched you though, I couldn't stop. I was addicted to you, infatuated with you. I felt how you must've felt during your first years around Potter. I felt ridiculous and embarrassed. I disgusted myself by thinking about your soft lips, your beautiful long eyelashes, and those chocolate coloured eyes. Most of all I felt confused, I should have been thinking about strategies, plans, tactics, or even something simpler as homework, instead every single one of my thoughts were about you. The way your hair always hang loosely on your back, how you despised to put in a ponytail, but still did, just for quidditch though. I didn't have a clue on how to kill that crazy old fool, didn't want to actually. People started to notice my worries. Of course I knew I looked bad, and my Slytherin house mates knew, if I looked bad, something was seriously off.

You actually only made things worse, I guess, by kissing Potter, proving me wrong, that you weren't healed from your crush. You could've gotten anyone you wanted, you could've gotten _me_, but you only wanted him.

I had to flee Hogwarts after I didn't kill Dumbledore, and let Snape do it instead. I now know that he made an unbreakable vow to my mother, otherwise he would never have killed his beloved Dumbledore.

Everything went so fast after that. I had to stay in hiding; I didn't see my parents, nor Snape. I got the Mark in those days, not even by the Dark Lord himself, but by some nameless Deatheater. I couldn't watch you then, because you were off fighting against the Dark Side – _my_ side – with that damned Potter.

When I came out of hiding again the world was one big mess. Dementors were still breeding, which caused again a very cold misty summer. I had missed the biggest part already; the climax of the war was coming. The battlefield was Hogwarts, simply because Potter chose it to be.

You were staying there too, together with the rest of the Order. Pettigrew told me the Dark Lord was expecting me to show, they were going to attack Hogwarts. I didn't want to attack Hogwarts, as much I despised your entire family, the mudblood, and the precious Boy Who Lived, I didn't want to kill them. Especially not you. The Dark Lord knew I couldn't kill, he thought of me as too weak, too cowardice. So I didn't mind when he sent me to spy on you before the attack. It was the same kind of task as the one I had before, a hopeless one. There was no way I could succeed and survive, chances were that I wouldn't do either of them. It was my last chance of seeing you. A spell breaker would guide me, he would block the security spells for a while, so I could wander around unnoticed. All the Order members stayed in the Gryffindor tower, you barely came out of the Gryffindor common room. _How typical_.

Draped in my invisibility cloak, I watched as you sometimes came out of the portrait hole, mostly to patrol, together with one of the others. You never spoke, you reminded me again of the girl you were in your first two years, so intimidated by Potter you could barely breathe. However, this time the silence wasn't caused by intimidation, it was caused by burden. Everyone was burdened by the task of guiding and helping Potter so he could defeat the Dark Lord. And Potter himself… well, everybody knew _he_ was burdened, didn't they?

There were moments, when you walked alone, not on patrol, just walking, lost in thoughts. You didn't know, but you were never alone during those walks, I was always with you. I watched you yet again, I studied your face, your silent tread. You had changed, your jaw always set, your eyes dark, your eyebrows knitted together, you lost weight, your robes were old and to large for you. I couldn't resist sneering at how _poor_ you looked. But I always felt the urge to help you, to take you mind of the problems, to see you smile again, that happy smile which made your eyes light up so that they almost seemed golden.

Time went by, I don't know how much, I had already lost track of time during my hiding, and it wasn't much better after that. I only remember you.

I think it was raining. It was cold outside. I couldn't resist and did what they specifically told me not to. I went to the Slytherin Dungeon. It was empty, and cold and moist. I thought it would bring up memories, would make me feel sentimental and nostalgic, maybe even melancholic.

It didn't. The only thing that was caused by my visit was my own death. Died, at the hands of my archrival.

You would never know about me. You would never know that I watched you, I saw you, studied you, observed you, remembered you. I loved you.


End file.
